Without You
by Gandalf3213
Summary: Accident on New York State Thruway leave two dead. That's what the headline said the day after the Hardy's parents were killed. What happens to the boys afterwards? Will they be able to stick together?
1. Beauty

**A/N: The Hardy's ages are different in this one. Frank is almost nineteen while Joe is just sixteen. There's a reason for this.**

_I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter. Winston Churchill_

The summer was too hot. Frank swept his hair out of his face and screwed up his eyes to look at the oncoming ball. He leaned forward, ready to go after it, his hands held out in perfect form. Just as he was about to hit the ball it was knocked away from him and sent flying back over the net.

Frank glared down at his little brother who lay sprawled in the sand spitting clumps of dirt out of his mouth. "Hey, bro, leave one for me, 'kay?" Frank flew out to the side, hitting the ball that had just been volleyed back to their court.

Frank hurriedly helped his sixteen-year-old brother up, moving away from him to cover the most area. He watched as Joe hit the ball into the air, and, knowing it wouldn't make it over the net, jumped straight up to spike it, giving the brothers another point. The winning point.

"Yes!" Joe punched his fist into the air smiling triumphantly. Frank smiled and relaxed his body, deciding it was way to hot to play another game and looking longingly at the surf.

He grinned across the net at their opponents. "Great game guys!" he shouted, and meant it. Large, muscular Biff was more than capable at beating the Hardy boys but slim, quiet Tony had been a surprising match as well.

"Man it's hot!" Biff yelled, walking off the court towards the surf. "Anybody want to join me for a swim?"

Joe sprinted after him, diving perfectly into the waves. Frank looked at Tony, who didn't seem affected by the heat, his toned olive skin reflecting the sun. They shrugged, and then raced into the water.

Frank lifted his head up, splashing Biff with droplets of water. He looked around for his brother, not worried when he couldn't find him. Joe could stay underwater longer then anyone he knew. If Frank didn't know better, he'd swear his younger brother had gills.

A lazy afternoon of catch tapered off as the sky started to turn dark. Frank waded out of the water, his limbs feeling heavy after the weightlessness of the ocean. The other boys followed him. For a moment, they looked out over the ocean, then turned and watched the sunset. When the last bands of red faded into blues, the boys said their goodbyes, heading for the cars.

Frank clamored into the driver's seat of the van while Joe hopped shotgun. "You sure I can't drive?" Joe whined, looking eagerly at his brother, who laughed at his enthusiasm. The half-hour drive was pleasant, with the boys recounting their day to each other and laughing.

They stayed away, by unspoken agreement, from the topic of Frank leaving. He would be going to college in a little less then two months while Joe would only be going into Junior year. Frank felt a pang, knowing he'd miss his little brother more than anything else.

Both boys were startled to find a police cruiser sitting in front of their house. Chief Collig sat on their front steps, his face grave. It was only when they got closer that the boys realized there were tears running down his cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked, looking anxiously at the Chief of Police. "What's happened?"

The man looked at them solemnly, and Joe felt as if his stomach had dropped into his shoes. The air seemed to become more oppressing, more unbearable as Chief Collig said the words that had been said so many times before.

"Boys, there's been an accident."


	2. Pain

**I own it not.**

_Brothers... outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and trust. Erica E. Goode_

"I'm sorry." Chief Collig repeated, and Frank was alarmed to see tears running down his cheeks. What had happened? "Boys, there's been an accident. Your parents...your parents are dead."

A simple sentence. It sent Frank's world spinning. Dead? It couldn't be. That couldn't be right. A car accident? Chief Collig was still talking but Frank couldn't hear him. The words didn't seem to make sense anymore.

He felt a hand slide into his. He looked down, then at his brother. Joe's mouth was open and he was swaying on the spot, looking green. His eyes were wide open and dirt still streaked his face. A week ago he'd turned sixteen. He looked so much younger.

Then Joe bolted, his hand ripping out of Frank's. Frank took a second to get his bearings before going after him.

He found Joe heaving on the side of the house. Frank knelt next to him, his hand rubbing his back. "I know..." Frank murmured as spasms shot up Joe's spine. "I know."

A few minutes later Joe stood up straight, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He looked scared and confused. Frank wordlessly held out his arms and felt his brother collapse into them, sobs racking his body. Frank smoothed back Joe's hair, putting his head on top of his brother's.

Slowly, the started walking back to Chief Collig. Joe's hand once again snaked towards Frank's, then dropped. Since they had started working on cases Joe had tried to be tough, and often was, never showing any fear. Now Frank reached down and grabbed his brother's hand, and was rewarded with a small squeeze.

They stepped carefully over the flower bed, so meticulously planted by their mother summers ago. She wouldn't be there to tend it anymore.

Chief Collig was still there. Frank saw that he was agitated, more distressed by this news then he'd ever been. The man looked imploringly at the boys, and Frank realized he was hurt too.

"Do you have someone to stay with?" Chief Collig asked after a short pause. Frank shook his head. Aunt Gertrude had died two years ago and the only other relatives they had lived out west somewhere, in Wyoming or Wisconsin.

"We're staying here." Frank was surprised by how steady his voice was.

Chief Collig nodded like he understood. "I'll be here. Call me if you need anything at all." He started towards the police cruiser, then spun around. "I'm sorry, boys, truly I am. Your parents...they were great people."

Frank nodded, not knowing what else to do. The words registered as lame. They were inadequate to describe the pain that he felt right now. How his stomach was twisted in so many tiny, fiery knots.

Frank gently lead Joe into the house, opening the unlocked door. The first thing he saw was his mother's bright yellow umbrella. He moved his eyes, glazing over Fenton's favorite jacket, slung carelessly over a chair.

He walked further in, his grip on Joe like iron. He sat down on the arm of the couch. He couldn't bring himself to go upstairs. He fell backwards, his brother toppling on top of him.

They started crying then. It was the first tears Frank had shed over his parent's death. His arms locked around Joe's thin body, holding him. The only stable thing he had right now.

The brothers cried for hours, as the reality sank in. Out of pure exhaustion they fell asleep, not wanting to face the morning.

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	3. Friends

**I don't own them.**

_Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted. **Paul Pearshall**_

Joe woke up as the sun struck his face. He gently lifted his brother's arms and wiggled out, sitting on a chair by the kitchen counter. For over an hour he sat there, staring at nothing. An apple rested on the counter, but he wasn't hungry. He doubted he'd ever be hungry again.

Frank was still sleeping. Every now and he'd mutter something, rolling over. Joe realized how different the day was from yesterday. Yesterday his mom and dad had still been alive. Yesterday he wasn't wondering what they'd do now. He wanted yesterday back.

A soft knock on the door made Joe stand up and jolted Frank awake. They looked at each other, then at the door. Joe opened it.

Chet stood there, his hands deep in his pockets, his face a picture of grief. "Hey guys," he murmured, looking between them. "I heard about your parents." He choked, and Frank and Joe ushered him inside.

Chet was broken up. Joe knew that, out of all their friends it was Chet who understood most what they were going through. Iola had died four months before and only recently had Chet been able to forgive the Hardys and live again.

The brothers looked at each other, then at Chet. "Chet, man, we got a favor to ask."

"Anything." Chet said, his voice steadier. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked at them expectantly.

"Can you..." Frank trailed off, working it out in his head. "Can you keep the guys away? Until this afternoon? And tell them to meet us here at two?"

Chet nodded, not understanding but willing to help. He turned to leave and Joe caught up with him. "Thanks Chet." He muttered. Chet nodded again, climbing into his old yellow jalopy.

When he had left, the Hardys looked at each other. Joe sat back down on the counter and took the apple up, tossing it between his hands. "Frank?"

"Yeah, buddy."

"I was thinking." Joe didn't look up at him. He kept tossing the apple back and forth. "I mean, I just turned sixteen and all..." he trailed off for a second, then looked up at his brother. "Will they...will they split us up?"

Frank grabbed his brother off the counter, sending the apple flying. He wrapped him in a bear hug. "Not if I can help it. Don't worry. It'll be okay."

"No it won't," Joe's answer was muffled by Frank's shirt. Frank just held him tighter.

The phone rang. The morgue. They had to identify their parent's bodies. Frank glanced at Joe, saw him crying quietly. "Hey buddy, you think you can stay here for a second while I run out?" Frank didn't want to leave his brother alone, but he was choosing the lesser of two evils.

Joe immediately sat bolt upright, "You're leaving me?" he asked, his voice high and scared, much younger then sixteen.

"Just for a second. I'll be right back." Joe still looked scared, like a caged animal. "I have to go identify mom and dad's bodies."

Joe slipped his hand into his brother's, tears still running down his face. "I'll come with you."

Frank wasn't going to object again. Joe looked like he was bordering on hysteria. Instead the brothers climbed into the van together.

Later, all Frank would remember of that visit was his parent's cold faces. The rest he tried to block out. Joe wasn't crying when they returned. He wasn't saying anything at all.

At a quarter to one people started showing up. Tony and Biff came first, eyes wide. This meeting was so different from yesterday's happy-go-lucky atmosphere. Callie came in, wrapping her arms around Frank and staying there. Phil and Chet came at about the same time, both looking as though they had been crying recently.

After everyone had showed up, Frank didn't know what to do. Biff, sensing his discomfort, stated. "Mine and Tony's parents, they're going to arrange the funeral and everything. They figured you had enough on your plate."

Frank nodded gratefully. He had been dreading the funeral planning. Callie gripped him tighter, whispering, "I'm here, Frank. And my dad will help you with stuff." Mr. Shaw was a lawyer.

"Frank?" Phil sounded apprehensive. "What're you going to do now?"

Frank shrugged. He'd been trying to figure that out, but his mind couldn't see past today, this moment. "I don't know."

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	4. Nightmares

**I own them not.**

_There is a little boy inside the man who is my brother ...Oh, how I hated that little boy. And how I love him so much I'd die for him. __Anna Quindlan_

Frank managed to fall asleep in his own bed that night. He was exhausted, but when he first lay down on top of the covers, he found that all he could do was cry. Frank had been trying to keep his tears from Joe, but now all the fears he had bundled into his head. He fell asleep dreaming of his parent's faces in a car that was toppling over a cliff.

He woke up at two in the morning to a blood-boiling scream. Frank shot out of his bed and went into his brother's room to find the boy thrashing in the covers, sweat pouring down his face. Joe was locked in the grip of a nightmare.

"Mom...dad...I'm sorry!...no, don't leave me! Stop!"

Frank knelt at Joe's side and woke him as gently as he could. "Joe. Joey, it's okay. I's okay, I promise."

Joe recoiled from Frank's touch before collapsing, the sobs racking his entire body. Frank climbed onto the bed. "I know. I know, I'm sorry." His mutterings continued like this for some time until Joe looked up at him.

"Are they really dead?" It wasn't really a question, but Frank answered anyway.

"I'm afraid so, Little Buddy." Frank put his head on top of Joe's smoothing his sweaty blond hair. Joe put his head on Frank's chest, his chest heaving as the sobs quieted. "What was your dream about?" Frank asked quietly, his hand on Joe's back.

Joe's answer was muffled by Frank's shirt, "Mom and dad, I think. I can't really remember." he looked up at Frank, his eyes wide, "I'm sorry I woke you up."

Frank hugged his brother, tears dripping down his cheeks. "You didn't wake me up. Don't worry."

Joe yawned, the tears finally stopping. "We're really messed up, Frank. What do we do? Your birthday's a week from tomorrow, and them you're supposed to go to collage and everything."

Frank shushed him. "I know, we had it all planned out." He smiled, remembering thier plan that had seemed so clear just days before. "I'd go to collage, you'd finish high school, and then we open a detective orginization." He frowned, thinking, "Don't worry, Joe, we'll still do that. It'll just be delayed a while."

Joe looked up at him, looking scared, "Frank, will you stay here tonight?"

Frank nodded, laying on the bed. Joe was right beside him. Frank through his arm over Joe's shoulders. "We'll be okay, Joey, I promise."

He didn't know if Joe believed him or not, but Joe drew himself closer, his head resting once again on Frank's chest. "Are you ever going to leave me, Frank?"

"No, Joe. I won't." He kissed his brother's head before laying back down, exhaustion consuming him. "I'll be right here. Go to sleep."

Joe sighed, curling up into a ball. "I love you, Frank."

Frank smiled, tears threatening again. "I know. I love you too, bro."

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	5. Funeral

**I own them not.**

_And she finally stopped playing their song when she realized she was dancing alone. Margaret Mitchel_

The funeral day dawned without a sun. Clouds, big, black storm clouds, obstructed the view and reflected the Hardy's stormy moods.

It seemed as if _everybody_ knew their parents. There were people there who their father had solved cases for, women who were in their mother's sewing club, and of course the Hardy's friends who never left their sides.

Probably the most tense person there was not either of the Hardy brothers but Chet, who jumped every time someone approached him. Frank's heart went out to him. He knew how hard it must be to be at a funeral so reminiscent of his sister's.

Sam Radley, their father's partner and a long-time friend of the Hardy's mostly ran the funeral, making sure everything went smoothly. He came up to the Hardy's just before everyone showed up.

"Hey guys." Sam's hands were stuck deep in his pockets, his eyes were watering. Frank knew that this was one person who had gotten their father out of a lot of scrapes. "I'm real sorry. Your father was a great man, and so was your mum. We're all going to miss them."

The boys had nodded, Sam continued. "Listen, I think you should get a heads up before everything starts happening at once. Tomorrow, a social worker is going to come to your house to see if Frank is a suitable guardian for you, Joe." Frank opened his mouth to ask how he knew this, "I just have a few connections. Anyway, just…I don't know. Do what you want with this information."

Frank sat down after this small bomb shell. Biff sat next to him, Tony on the other side. "What's up, Frank?"

Frank opened his mouth to explain, then shut it again. He tried again. "I'm going to be Joe's legal guardian."

Tony frowned slightly. "Would you rather you weren't?"

"Yes, no, no! Of course not! But…" Frank bit his lip. "I'm not ready for this, guys. I don't know if I can do it. I mean, I was supposed to be going to collage in a month, and now I have to be a dad to my little brother." He put his head in his hands.

Biff touched his shoulder. "Frank? Listen, just take this one step at a time. Pass that interview tomorrow, because if you don't get guardianship of Joe the state will take him, put him in foster care or something." His voice was gentle but firm. "He's much better off with you."

Frank got up, wishing he could take off his jacket. It was hot again, and humid. People were starting to come for the funeral, the hearse with his parents caskets had showed up.

An hour later Frank stood next to Joe as they watched their parents get lowered into the ground. Joe was shaking like a leaf in the storm. Frank took his hand and was surprised to find it cold even in the heat of summer. He glanced at his brother and saw him desperately trying not to cry. He hugged him, murmuring. "It's okay, buddy, you can cry if you need to."

And he did. Both ended up crying, tears trailing down their cheeks as dirt covered their parents.

Because they had both realized, at the same time, that they were alone. Completely alone. And their parents weren't coming back.


	6. Responsibility

_**I own it not.**_

_The mildest, drowsiest brother has been known to turn tiger if his sibling is in trouble. Clara Ortega_

The next day neither of the Hardys could sit down. Nervousness built up inside them as the hours slipped past. Frank was trying to wrap his mind around being a legal guardian. The thought made him want to be sick. He wasn't ready for this. He knew he wasn't.

Joe looked anxiously at his brother. He had had another nightmare, and his screams had brought Frank to his room. They slept in the same bed again, but since those comforting words Frank had muttered last night his brother had said almost nothing at all.

A knock at the door a little after noon made both boys jump. Frank opened the door, his hand shaking so much he could barely open it. A short woman stood there, her blond hair pulled up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She looked a lot like the Hardy's mother.

"I'm Cindy Lockwood," she stated quietly, looking up at Frank who was almost a foot taller than the small woman. "May I come in?"

Frank stood back to let her in. She took a step in the door and closed it behind her, turning to the boys. "You probably don't remember me." She said, "I was a friend of your father's. Last time I saw you two, Joe was just a baby." She sighed. "It's horrible that we should meet again like this."

They sat down at the kitchen table, Frank directly across from Mrs. Lockwood, Joe sitting in the end chair, seemingly unable to keep still.

Mrs. Lockwood opened a folder and spread it out before her but didn't look at it. "I'm here to tell you that there seems to be no reason why Frank shouldn't be your legal guardian, Joe. It seems that you two are good people, detectives like your father." She smiled a little, then leaned forward. "I need to know that you want to be the legal guardian, Frank."

Frank bit his lip, he knew that this answer could change his life. On the one hand, he could say no, go to collage like a normal kid, continue with 'the plan' but lose his brother to the state and maybe never see him again. On the other hand, he could say yes, stay here for the next two years while everyone he knew left.

He looked at Joe. He was sitting still now, and looked back at him, his blue eyes seeming to take up his entire face, pleading with him. He was terrified of being left alone. If Frank said no, if he took the easy way out, he'd lose the person who meant more to him than anything in the world.

Frank took a deep breath, feeling his heart beat double-time. "Yeah, I want to be Joe's legal guardian."

Mrs. Lockwood smiled. "I hoped you'd say that. You'll have to fill our some forms and have them signed by a judge. If I were you, I'd wait until your 19th birthday. It'll give you more time to think about it, give you sort of a test week." She reached across the table and took Frank's hand. "You can still change your mind if you need to. Nothing is set in stone."

A half hour later, the Hardy brothers were still sitting at the table. Mrs. Lockwood had just left. Neither looked at each other.

Joe spoke first, his adolescent voice cracking. "Frank," he started, "I…I know how hard that must have been for you."

Frank was about to say something but Joe held up his hand. "You could have said no, I know you wanted to. You could have gone to collage and had a life. You already got a scholarship and everything." Joe looked down. "I'm sorry."

Frank lifted his brother's chin up. "Don't be sorry, Joe." He hugged him fiercely. "Don't ever be sorry. None of this is your fault at all." He felt his brother shake under him and wondered vaguely how many times he'd do this in the years to come.

"Thank you." Joe muttered thickly, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. He had seen the look in his brother's eyes, and knew that he didn't want this. But he had done it anyway, and that meant more to Joe than anything in the entire world.

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	7. Foolishness

**I own nothing**

_A sibling may be the keeper of one's identity, the only person with the keys to one's unfettered, more fundamental self. __Marian Sandmaier_

Joe sat down on the bed, surprised that his breaths were coming out long and shallow. He hadn't realized until just now how much he'd been dreading Frank's decision.

A lot of Joe's friends had come to the funeral. He was pretty popular at school, so that was about a hundred people. One of them was Jason Reldey, a boy who'd been put in foster care when he was eleven and was still circulating through the system. Bayport was the seventh stop so far. Joe didn't want to end up like that.

And he understood how hard it had been for Frank. At least, he thought he did. He knew that he was giving up two years that he'd thought he'd have totally to himself. Two years to watch his younger brother in a town now riddled with memories.

Pushing the thoughts aside for the moment, Joe forced himself to look ahead. The future was blurry, like an unfocused camera lens. It could change at a moment's notice and without warning. Joe had found that out first hand.

He focused on one event in the coming week. Frank's nineteenth birthday. There'd been plans of a party at the bay to celebrate, now neither brother was sure what would happen. Suddenly, Joe felt like he had to do something. He wasn't the best at planning parties, but he was itching to get up, wanting to get away from the burning feeling in the pit of his stomach that had settled there the moment he'd seen Chief Collig on the steps.

First on the list was Callie. She was Frank's girlfriend and probably the best at planning parties. Turned out it was the only call he had to make.

"Yeah, you aren't the only one who wants the party to go on. Chet called earlier, wanted to make sure I'm still coming. He said something about not wanting you to waste away in your house like he did." Callie's voice was soft, and suddenly Joe felt, for the first time, that he quite liked the girl.

She was speaking again, lower and gentler, a tone that reminded him vaugley of his mother. "How are you doing? Both of you? I heard about the social worker coming to call...?"

Joe gulped, but found that the words came out easily. "It was fine. Frank...well, I'm sure he'll tell you himself." Suddenly Joe felt guilty for being on the phone with his brother's girl friend. He wanted to hang up. Callie seemed to sense this.

"Joe, you can talk to me, you know. This year's been tough for you. I get it. Just tell me if you need to talk. Any of us." She was referring to the close circle of friends that the Hardy's shared. "We're here for you. Don't do anything stupid."

Surprisingly, Joe found himself smiling when he hung up the phone. So that's what his friends feared most. That he was do something rash, think with his emotions instead of his head. Make split second decisions that either turn out to be the most brilliant escapades or the stupidest things on the face of the Earth. His friends tended to remember the latter.

The need to do something still burning in his mind, Joe walked out the front door, meaning to clear his head. It was the first time he'd been out of the house, really out of it, since the beach. He suddenly saw his parents clearly, smiling at him, and he started crying.

The sun was sinking behind the trees as he headed towards the park.


	8. Mistakes

_**I don't own them.**_

_It's those closest to us that we hurt the easiest. Ellie Wilsecoff_

Frank woke up and looked at the clock. It wasn't really eleven thirty, was it? He got up quickly and stretched. Joe had been talking about making dinner for the two of them. It would have been the first time they really ate something since their parent's deaths. Now he had slept through it.

Feeling horrible even after his long nap, Frank knocked on his brother's door, sure that he was in there. "Joe?" he called, then walked in. He wasn't in there.

He backed out, "Joe?" he called again, a little louder. A quick sweep of the kitchen proved that Joe wasn't there. Frank felt a knot of panic tighten in his stomach. What if something had happened? His father had locked up a guy just two weeks ago who swore he'd kill Fenton's family. But he was in jail. Right?

Picking up the phone, Frank dialed all of his friend's numbers. The last one he talked too was Callie. "Yeah, he called around five. Wanted to talk."

"About what?" Frank demanded, getting more anxious with each passing moment. He could hear Callie shrug over the phone.

"Nothing much. He just said he needed to get out. You know how he is..." she let her voice drift off. Frank hung up the phone and started pacing.

What if that guy had broken out of jail, or had some contacts outside? Would they have hurt Joe? A sudden mental picture of Joe, dead, staring at him with blank eyes like his parents. No, that wasn't real. It couldn't be. He loved Joe. He needed him.

For a half hour Frank tried to sit down, to think of something else. But what if...? What if he was dead? What if Joe was hurt? What if he was kidnapped right now? What if...?

At a quarter after twelve the door opened and Joe came in, hanging his sweater on a peg next to the door. He spotted Frank, who was standing up now, an unreadible expression on his face. "Hey..." his voice trailed off as Frank came nearer, his steps slow, measured.

"Where have you been?" Frank didn't know why his voice was so loud or why he seemed so angry. He hadn't meant the words to come out like that. Joe cringed but met his brother's eyes.

"I...I was just taking a walk. I went down to the bay." His voice was defensive, but pleading. He didn't admit that he had sat on the pebbly beach, crying, for nearly an hour until the tide came up to his ankles. He also didn't tell Frank about talking out loud to thier parents. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't crazy.

Frank seemed to draw himself up higher so he was towering over Joe, though he was only taller by three inches. "I was worried about you!" he didn't know who was controlling his voice. He didn't mean to shout. He didn't like that his brother winced again. "I thought...and you..." he couldn't seem to get words out anymore.

Trying again, Frank managed, "You're not just my kid brother anymore, Joe, I'm responsible for you!"

Something flickered in Joe's eyes and his face became closed off, unreadible, "I know Frank, I didn''t mean to stay out, I forgot."

"Grow up, Joe!" His voice was too loud, it was filling up the entire house, but now he let all the thoughts he'd been having spill out. "Grow up, you're not a kid any more! Mom and dad can't take care of you!"

Now it was Joe's turn to shout back. He'd kept his famous temper in check until then. "Stop being dad, Frank!" he yelled trying to look his brother in the eye. "You're not him!"

Frank had turned around, as if he was walking away, but now he whipped around so fast that Joe could barely keep up with him. All the frustraion and anger and sadness he'd been feeling for a week boiled inside him as he hit Joe with enough force to knock him against the door he'd just come through.

Frank looked at his hand where it had turned red, then back at Joe. His hands were covering one cheek, blood dripped from a small cut, the entire cheek was red. Neither brother had ever hit each other hard enough to draw blood. Ever.

And now Joe was looking up at Frank, anger smoldering in his deep blue eyes. But there was something else there as well. He was looking up at Frank, his eyes betraying an emotion that Frank had rarely seen there. Fear.

**I'm so mean to the Hardy's. **

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	9. Love

**I don't own them.**

_The family. We are a strange little band of characters trudging through life. Inflicting pain and trying to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. Erma Bomback_

Frank gazed first at his hand, then at his brother. Joe's cheek had turned red with the force of the blow, a thin line of blood dripping down it. "Joe." He said, his voice much quieter as he knelt next to his brother.

Joe wouldn't meet his eyes. He shook his head, one hand scrambling for the door knob behind him. "Joe, I didn't mean too. I'm sorry." He tried to reach for his brother's arm but he yanked it away, standing up.

Frank knew that he had to stop this, now. "Joe, I'm sorry." He said again, and his brother finally looked at him. His blue eyes were full of anger and hurt and...fear.

"Frank," Joe broke off, turning his face away and blinking back tears. He didn't have to say anything more, the one word and his eyes had already broken Frank's heart.

The older boy backed up into a chair and sat down, biting his lips, hoping that Joe wouldn't take off. He didn't. Frank watched as his younger brother stood in the middle of the floor, shivering with the sudden coldness of the wet clothes he was dressed in. He didn't move towards the door, but he didn't move towards Frank either.

"Joey..." Frank swallowed hard, trying to get his jumbled thoughts in order. "Joe, I'm sorry, I was just...I was worried when I couldn't find you." It was now painfully obvious to Frank where Joe had been, and he was mentally kicking himself for not knowing before.

As kids, whenever they had gotten into fights, which was often, Joe would run off, leaving Frank alone. They once spent nearly a day that way, until Frank finally went looking for his younger brother and found him next to the bay, sitting on the beach.

All he ever had to say was, "Follow me." And they'd go back to the house. The fight was...not forgotten, but put aside, both realizing that they had acted childishly.

"What was the bay like tonight?"

It was the right question. Joe looked up at him, his eyes softening a little. "Colder than ever." He was quiet for a second. "The sunset was really pretty, Frank, lots of pinks and golds. Mom...mom would have liked it a lot."

Joe bit his lip and turned away again, but this time Frank got up and carefully enveloped his brother in a hug. Joe was stiff for a second, then sank into Frank's shoulder, his dripping hair and tears mixing together on Frank's shirt.

"I'm sorry I didn't come back earlier," Joe said, his voice thick with tears, stiff pressed into Frank's shirt. "I lost track of time."

Frank kissed the top of his brother's head. "You always do."

Joe's grip on him got tighter, as if making sure that Frank was still there and would never leave him. "I love you, Frank."

Frank didn't say anything.

Eventually, the brothers broke apart. Eventually, Joe collapsed onto the sofa, chest heaving until he fell into a deep sleep. Eventually, Frank threw the still-unfinished quilt of their mother's over him, whispering, "Love you too, Joe."

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	10. Happily Ever After

_**I don't own them.**_

_The only thing that makes sense is moving forward – Fullmetal Alchemist _

They weren't really "back to normal," they doubted they ever would be, really, and they didn't want to go back. They didn't want to forget.

Frank had made one change to the house since he had 'inherited' it, and that was to move the queen-sized bed from his parents room into his (he had enlisted the help of Joe, Biff, and Chet for this), because Joe was still having nightmares and he didn't want to sleep in his parent's room.

A week after Joe's sudden disappearance and Frank's outburst, three important things happened on one day. Frank turned nineteen, for one.

Joe, after making plans with Callie and most of his and Frank's friends, had thrown a very large, very loud party at the beach. For one long, glorious afternoon the brothers forgot that they were now orphans and had fun with their friends, who had all chipped in to buy Frank a new motor to replace the failing one that currently occupied the _Sleuth._

The second important thing happened later that night, when Frank and Joe, accompanied by Mr. Shaw, Callie's father and a respected lawyer, made their way to the local courts to start the process of finalizing Frank as Joe's legal guardian.

The third thing happened around midnight that night, when Frank woke up from a violent dream. His arm automatically groped sideways for his brother and reached into thin air.

Remembering vividly the events of the previous week, Frank forced himself to stay calm. It wouldn't do either of them any good to blow up at each other. Not when they'd come so far.

Making his way downstairs, Frank saw a glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye. The door to his father's study was slightly ajar and a light was on inside. Frank pushed the door open, and was not surprised to find his brother sitting in the chair previously occupied by his father, crying.

He didn't say anything, and leaned against the doorframe, watching his brother's tears drip steadily onto the floor. It was five minutes before Joe finally started speaking.

"I...I keep on expecting them to come back." Joe's voice was hoarse, and his blue eyes sparkled with tears as they met Frank's, who merely said, "I know."

He did know. Every story he'd ever read as a child proved that his parents should be coming back to life any day now. One of Frank's earliest memories was of his mother sitting on the side of his bed, saying the same words at the end of every day, _And__ they all lived happily ever after._ He was waiting for his happily ever after, and it hadn't come yet.

Joe wiped his face with the back of his hand and stood up, one hand folding around a picture of their parents on their wedding day. Frank pretended not to notice. "Do you think it'll get easier, Frank?"

Frank didn't know. He'd been asking himself that every morning when he woke up with the ache like a wound in his stomach. He answered his younger brother slowly, enveloping him in a hug and leading him back up the stairs.

"I don't know. But we just have to keep going to find out."

**Fin.**

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